The Chosen One
by Maiden of the BH
Summary: HIATUS Jem is a young mousemaid, a slave in Vil's fort. She wishes that she could do more and be more, but her future is one that she would have never imagined.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Jem slammed her paws together, working the mud, or clay, or whatever this putrid, brown substance was, into bricks. The sun beat down on her head mercilessly, mocking her as her parched throat screamed for water. On the edges of her vision, waves of heat rolled over the landscape. Tired, both mentally and physically, she let her eyes stray from her work, her paws slackening in their labor. A cracking sound, followed by a sharp pain in her back brought her back to her task. Ducking her head over, she finished the brick she had been working on and then hefted it up. As she turned around with it, she shot a glance at the rat who had whipped her. Yes, just as she had thought. It was Trute. Jem began to walk slowly toward the hand-off point where she would give up her brick to another slave who would carry it out to the dirt field where the sun baked them. As she walked, she thought of how much she would love to kill Trute. There were many slave drivers all about this place, but Trute seemed to her the worst. He especially liked bearing down on the young and the old. Jem always tried to remain full of spirit and help those around her who were weaker than her, but in truth, she wasn't so strong herself. She was quite young. She hadn't been a slave all of her life, but she couldn't remember ever being free.

"Here little missy, let me take that off your paws." Jem blinked in surprise. She hadn't realized that she had been coming up to the hand-off point, so consumed in her own thoughts. With a half-smile on her face, she handed the brick to the otter in front of her, watching with awe at how easily he lifted it. These bricks were being made to finish off a fort for the wealthy searat Vil who owned this place and all of their lives. He demanded that the bricks be six by six by eight paw lengths and that they be solid, without any air bubbles. Sometimes she found the weight of them unbearable by days end, but there was nothing she could do about it. "Best run along now missy," the otter said with a nod before turning from her. Taking his advice, Jem turned quickly around and headed back to where the bricks were made. Halfway there, she realized with a shock that the otter had been talking to her. The slaves weren't allowed to talk to each other while they worked and she was amazed that he hadn't been caught and given a whipping. With a sigh, she silently thanked her ancestors that he had gotten away with speaking such kind words to her, and set about making another brick.

The day dragged on at an unearthly slow pace, each brick feeling heavier than the last, and the faces of the slaves and slave drivers around Jem started to blur into unrecognizable smears. Hours after the strong otter had taken that first brick off of her paws, she had nearly forgotten about him, thinking only of her need for a water break and maybe a bite of food. Struggling with a brick which she would almost swear weighed twice as much as all of the others she had made and carried that day, she heard a cracking sound behind her. She fell to her knees, dropping the brick into the dirt. She saw it land on one of its edges, becoming squashed out of shape, and her tired mind could think of nothing but how unfortunate it was that she must now reshape it. She reached down to the brick, but she never touched it. The cracking sound which had caused her to drop the brick in the first place hadn't let up, and she finally realized that she was being whipped. She had been so tired, and her back and shoulders so strained from carrying bricks that she hadn't felt the pain of the whip at first. She slumped over on her side, curling up into a ball as the whip came down on her again and again. She would have cried out, but her throat was too dry to support anything over a whisper. Just as the pain seemed as if it were killing her, her body gave in, and she passed into darkness.

* * *

"The poor thing! Only her second day making bricks?"

"Yes, she's been packing the mud together for seasons, and they just changed her job."

"Tsh, tsh. It's harder work, carrying those bricks. Can't they see she's too young?"

"Of course not. They don't care about us. What's it to them if they overwork a slave or two to death?"

"But she's such a little thing. Couldn't we hide her? Keep her from the work for a few days?"

Sigh. "I wish we could, but where'd we hide her? Under the blankets? She'd be found, and then we'd all be in trouble."

Jem blinked her eyes and tried lifting her head. She thought she might recognize the voices talking, but she wasn't sure. She lay on her stomach, on the cold, packed earth. Her entire body ached from the strain of labor it had been put through and then the beating that she had received for working too slow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She licked her lips, but they began bleeding, only compounding her problem of not being able to speak. She felt a paw come to rest on the back of her head, gently pushing it back down.

"Rest now honey. Don't overextend yourself."

Jem set the side of her face on the ground and continued licking her lips, determined to say something. "Carla?" she finally managed to croak.

"Yes, I'm here."

"Wha hap...?"

"Shhh, don't talk. You passed out. If it wasn't for this young sir here, you might be dead. He saved your life."

Jem forced her eyes open, trying to focus her blurred vision on the two beasts with her. The one closer to her was Carla, a kindly squirrel who had taken charge of her when her own mother had died, trying to help her stay alive in this cruel place. The other, she thought she might have seen before, but all she could make out at the moment was that he was an otter.

"Hey little missy! How are you holding up?"

Carla elbowed the otter. "Don't ask her any questions or else she'll feel compelled to answer. She needs rest now."

"Oh, right," he said, a blush coming to his face. "I'll see you later then Jem." With that, he turned around and left them alone. Jem's eyes were starting to focus better, and she noticed dark red scars on his back. Immediately, she felt horrible. He must have gotten between her and the whip, taking the brunt of the attack. Tears came to her eyes. Why wasn't she stronger? Her first day of making bricks had been hard, but she hadn't slowed down so much or passed out. What was wrong with her? She tried to get up again, needing to show herself that she wasn't weak, but she felt Carla's paws on her again.

"Now what do you think you're doing? That whip touched more than just your back. Don't unsettle the bandages, Jem, please."

Jem tilted her head slightly, trying to get a look at herself. Bandages covered not only her back, but her arms and legs as well. As she saw just how many bandages she was wrapped in and that red was showing through some of them, she realized how much pain she was in. How could she have not felt it all before? With a soft whimper, she lowered herself back onto the ground, letting Carla rub the back of her head until she fell asleep.

"One day," Carla whispered to the sleeping Jem. "One day, this will all be over."


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Just so that you have an idea of where and when this is, Fort Vil is located near the ruins of Marshank (the fortress of Badrang from _Martin the Warrior_), by the Eastern Sea. I'm not sure whether or not Redwall will enter into this story, but if it does, it will be near the end of the story and it will be late in Redwall's history (like after _Taggerung_).

* * *

Chapter One

Jem leaned on the hoe, breathing heavily. _Two rows down, nine thousand to go_, she thought sarcastically. She closed her eyes, gathering her strength. Opening them again, she looked upon Fort Vil. The slaves had finished laying the last stones only last season.

"Water," Jem heard somebeast whisper behind her. Turning around, she found a young hedgehog bearing a large water jug and small cup. He held out the cup to her, but remained staring at the ground. She took the extended cup and dipped it into the jug, drinking it all down in one gulp. It was freezing outside, being the dead of winter, but she knew better than to forgo drinking.

"Thank you," she told the hedgehog. _He looks no bigger than a dibbun_.

The hedgehog grabbed the cup back, and after giving Jem a slightly frightened look, scurried on to the next slave. _Oh_, thought Jem, _so young and he already knows not to talk. I bet he's only allowed to say 'water' and nothing else. I didn't mean to scare him by talking._ Glancing around, she saw that no salve drivers were close enough to have heard her. Walking over to the next row of potatoes, she got to work again.

* * *

Jem sat up late. While she hadn't thought much of it at the time, it was now disturbing her that she'd spoken to the young hedgehog who was giving water to the slaves. Jem had never done anything to get herself in trouble before. _It all comes from knowing Genti_, she thought. Genti was an otter, five seasons older than Jem. She still couldn't believe that he was that young. He was _huge_! 

Jem would never forget how they had met. Genti had taken a stone off of her paws on her second day of making bricks and had kept an eye on her for the rest of the day, saving her life when a slave driver named Trute had tried to whip her to death. She'd been sick and delirious afterward, spending the next few weeks in bed instead of out working. Genti had sat beside her every night, trying to talk her out of her illness. By the time she was fit enough to get back to work, Genti had changed her, according to Carla, for the worse. Jem was no longer the timid mouse she had once been. She'd always had thoughts of anger toward Vil and his hoard, but now her anger was more focused.

"The way to win is to not lose hope," Genti had said. "We have to join together and help each other. Then, with time, maybe we could help somebeast to escape or escape ourselves."

Genti had been encouraging her to speak to other slaves, but she had never done so during the working day and most slaves were so tired by the end of the day that they just wanted to eat, drink, and then go to sleep. Thoughts of a better life were so far away that they didn't exist for most of the beasts Genti and Jem spoke to. Carla thought the two of them were simply young beasts thinking of impossible things. She had told them more than once to stop their nonsense or else they'd get in trouble. It annoyed Jem how Carla doted over her, referring to her illness and how weak she was. _It's been two seasons!_ Jem thought angrily. _I'm fine now. I'm strong!_

"What's bothering you Jem?" asked Genti, sitting down next to her and handing her some stale bread. She accepted the bread automatically, but she didn't eat it.

"I broke a rule today."

"Which one?"

"The one that says we can't talk."

Genti shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I talk all the time. Sometimes you just have to say something nice and smile. Otherwise there'd be no point to life anymore."

Jem shook her head, looking down at her bread. "Is there really a point? I believed you before, but we haven't made any progress. Two seasons and still we have nobeast on our side except each other. Why are they all so hopeless? If somebeast just escaped, then couldn't things work out?"

"Jem, look at me."

Jem looked up at Genti. He had a stern look on his face. She couldn't help but think, as she had many times before, that he looked so much older than he really was. "Don't you give up hope too. I've been on my own for a while. Then you, little missy, came into my life. We'll find somebeast else. Just take a look around. There are hundreds of slaves here, but how many do we know? Probably around fifty, right? There is somebeast else who feels like we do, who believes that they won't, that they _can't_, die a slave."

Jem smiled. "You're right Genti. We'll find somebeast else."

Genti patted Jem on the back. "Have hope little missy, have hope. Now, let's keep ourselves fit. We'll have a feast so we can stay strong."

Jem smiled, seeing a glint in Genti's eyes. "A feast?" Genti held up his bread, looking at it with wonder. Jem could tell that he was trying to be serious, but a smile showed through on his face anyway. Laughing, Jem began to pretend that her own meager piece of bread contained the contents of an entire feast, and the two friends ate their meal among happy laughter.

* * *

"Hey, mouse!" 

Jem looked up from her work. She was the only mouse in the vicinity. _What have I done?_ she wondered. Standing up straight, she turned in the direction of the voice.

"You're being moved to another job. Follow me," said the rat. A young squirrel at his side quickly scurried up to Jem, extending his paw to take her hoe. She handed it over mutely and the squirrel got to work where she had left off, his head bent down over his work. The rat had already turned and begun to walk off, so Jem ran to catch up. _I wonder what I'll be doing now_.

Jem stayed in step, just behind the rat. They were heading straight for Fort Vil. She knew that many slaves worked in there during the day instead of out in the fields or down by the sea, but she hadn't spoken with many of them and wasn't sure what they did. As they passed between the large gates into the fort, she couldn't help but stare in awe at the place. The slaves were kept in a highly guarded barracks behind the fort, so many of them had never seen the inside before. Jem was overcome with a desire to stand still with her mouth wide open and just look around. She could barely believe that only two seasons ago she had been building and carrying some of the stones which were now fitted together into such a majestic building. Jem had to concentrate on what she was doing and continue to follow the rat though, or else she's surely forfeit her life for being slow and stupid.

The rat had not even checked to make sure that Jem was still following him, but was instead marching straight on toward the main building of the fort. It had been named Castle Vil. Jem had never seen a castle before, so she wasn't sure whether the building lived up to the title or not, but nobeast, least of all slaves, would have any interest in challenging Captain Vil. If he wanted to name everything after himself and if he wanted to call his house a castle, who was going to stop him?

Just when Jem was going to brace herself before going into the castle, the rat leading her turned off to the side. _It's probably better that I don't see the inside_, she thought. _I like pretty things too much. Carla's always telling me that it'll get me in trouble one day._

The rat stopped before what looked to be a hole in the ground right up next to the castle wall. "Down these steps and into the kitchen. Gofod is in charge and will tell you what to do."

Without haste, Jem nodded to the rat and stepped up beside the hole. Sure enough, there were stairs cut into the ground, and at the bottom of the stairs there was a door leading into the castle. Jem hurried down the stairs, and without a backward glance, opened the door and stepped inside.

She was met with such wonderful smells that she felt as if she could sing. While the slaves were only given the foul leftovers of the fort, Vil and his hoard ate very well indeed. A few rats and ferrets stood along the walls of the kitchen (and it didn't take Jem long to notice their presence), but all of the cooks seemed to be slaves. Jem stepped uncertainly away from the door, wondering which one of the vermin was Gofod.

"Hot cherry pie! Out of the way!" said a mouse as he passed her. She quickly jumped out of his way and watched him as he ran the pies over to a side table where many things were cooling.

And then it hit her. _He spoke to me and there are definitely enough hoard beasts nearby to have noticed!_ In fact, many slaves were talking. They were instructing each other on what ingredients to pass them or how long something should simmer or even of where they had learned different recipes. The entire environment was different than any other Jem had ever been exposed to. Without being able to help it, Jem smiled. _Finally something good has happened to me_.

Mustering up the courage, she approached an elderly squirrel who was kneading dough. "Excuse me, but could you tell me which hoard beast is Gofod?"

The squirrel gave her a slightly startled look and then began to shake his head. "None of them are. Gofod is over there by the pantry door." The squirrel nodded his head in the correct direction.

Jem looked at where he was indicating. She wasn't sure what a pantry was, never having heard the term, but there was only one door on that side of the kitchen, and standing before it were two beasts, a hedgehog and an otter. _What's going on here?_ she thought, walking toward the beasts. _The rat said that Gofod was in charge, but how can that be? Slaves are never put in charge of anything._ As she approached the pantry, the otter nodded and walked off to the opposite side of the kitchen. The hedgehog quickly looked around the kitchen, as if surveying it. He took in Jem instantly and beckoned her forward.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Gofod." Jem realized that she was whispering. It would take her a while to adjust to the activities in the kitchens.

"Well, you've found him. I'm Gofod. Are you doing a food run to some troops or what?"

"No, no, I'm supposed to work here. That's what I was told."

"Oh good! We can always use more help. What is your name my dear?"

"Jem. My name is Jem. But, I don't know how I can help you. I've never made food before."

Gofod began to laugh merrily, his stomach shaking. Jem found herself staring at his tummy. He was fat. A fat slave! She'd never had so many surprises in one day. She felt as if she'd stumbled into another world. "Haha, never made food? Well Jem, you don't need to worry about that. We'll teach you. Before long I bet you'll be the best cook in the kitchens, just you see."

Jem blinked in alarm. The best cook in the kitchens? How could he say that? She knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about cooking. She'd also never met a beast who was so optimistic and jolly. _I hope he's alright in the head._

"But we'll start with the basics," said Gofod. "Let me introduce you to Barka. You can help her. Just help her gather ingredients and measure them out. She'll let you do more when you're ready. She's good at being able to tell when somebeast is ready." As he spoke, he put his arm around her and began to direct her toward the corner to the left of the door where she had entered. Jem didn't feel very comfortable being so close to Gofod and she kept eyeing his spikes, but she didn't want to be rude or do anything to get herself in trouble, so she remained quiet.

Gofod led her to an ancient mouse who was slowly stirring the contents of a large bowl. He tapped on the mouse's shoulder and she set down the bowl and turned around, wiping her floury paws on her apron. "This … is … Jem!" said Gofod, speaking very loudly and slowly. _Oh no_, thought Jem. _He's lost his mind!_ "She's … going … to … help … you!"

"Eh?" asked the mouse. "What did yousay?"

Gofod repeated himself, this time even louder.

"Oh," said the mouse, taking Jem's paws. Jem forced herself not to flinch as she felt the dough. "I'd love your help Jim!"

Jem smiled weakly. _The poor thing can't hear._ "Umm, it's Jem."

"Eh? You have tospeak louder."

"Jem. My name is JEM!"

"Oh, that's nice." said the old mouse, patting her paw. "My name is Barka."


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Jem worked alongside Barka for the rest of the day. She had some trouble communicating with the old mouse, but her respect for Gofod went up many notches. Barka, though hard of hearing, was an expert baker. She explained to Jem where different ingredients were kept and what different measurements were. It was a good thing that Barka was so good at explaining things, because Jem would have had some trouble getting it across to the mouse that she needed things repeated.

The whole day went by faster than nearly any other Jem had experienced. Before she knew it, Gofod was yelling above all of the noise for everybeast to finish up, collect their due, and gather outside to be led back to the slaves' quarters. The slaves in the kitchen began to run to and fro, clearing the side table of everything which had cooled, and piling it up with the new things coming out of the ovens. The clank of glass was heard throughout the room as sauces, spreads, fruits, and vegetables were sealed away in glass jars. The traffic in front of the pantry door startled Jem so much that she stood clear of it for a while before gathering the courage to squeeze inside to put back the flour that she and Barka had not used that day. As the last things were being put in place, Barka took Jem by the arm, pulled her out of the way of a mole rolling some cheese, and put a rag in her paw.

"Now we clean," she said.

Jem nodded and followed Barka's lead, scrubbing the countertop where she'd spent the day. She and Barka were some of the first slaves to finish their work. Barka placed Jem in front of her and steered her toward the door which led outside. Beside the door were what looked like a few bundles of napkins. Gofod picked up two and handed them to the two mice.

"Your due!" he said happily.

Jem took the bundle without a word and climbed the stairs up to the ground outside. Three of the vermin who had stood by the wall in the kitchen all day were now keeping an eye on the slaves outside. Jem stared down at her bundle with interest. What could it be? She began to unwrap it.

"Not now dear," said Barka, lying a paw on top of Jem's own. "Wait until we're back with the other slaves."

Jem nodded and sloppily rolled the bundle back up. She stood quietly by Barka as more slaves climbed out of the kitchens, each carrying a small bundle of napkins. One of the ferret guards began pushing among the slaves, sorting them out by species and then counting them. "All the squirrels and otters," Jem heard him muttering, "an extra mouse, the new one," his eyes rested on Jem for a moment before moving on. "All of the voles and hedgehogs, and then the moles." He stopped for a second, looking at the scant group of moles before him. "Ay!" he called to the other guards. "There's a mole missing. Check the kitchens once more."

A weasel near the stairway quickly disappeared from view. He appeared not long after, dragging a frightened looking molemaid. The mole carried nothing in her paws. The ferret who had been counting the slaves strode over to her. The molemaid sank to the ground in terror, shaking, not daring to look the ferret in the eye.

"Thought you were going to spend the night in the kitchens, did you?" snarled the ferret. Jem closed her eyes and looked away, knowing what was coming. She flinched as she heard the mole cry out with each kick. "You know there are only three slaves on night duty!" spat the ferret. After a few more kicks, he turned from her and toward the other slaves, making his way back through them to the front. "Let's go, the sun's nearly gone."

Jem shot a glance back at the molemaid. She had tears running down her face, but she didn't look hurt too bad. What's more, the weasel who had dragged her from the kitchen was now helping her to her feet. Jem shook her head and blinked her eyes, but nothing changed. Sure enough, the hordebeast was _helping _a slave.

Jem didn't have any time to dwell on the oddities of this day at the moment. The slaves were being ushered back through the gates of Fort Vil and around the fort to the slave barracks. She'd have time to ask questions and figure out what in the world was going on in the kitchens when they were eating dinner with the other slaves.

* * *

The kitchen slaves were some of the first to arrive back from work. Most of the other slaves that had been led back from work before them, Jem was almost certain, worked inside the castle. They quickly surrounded the kitchen slaves and began to help them to spread out their bundles on the ground. As Jem saw all of those napkins being unrolled and spread out, it made so much sense to her that she felt stupid for not guessing at their contents earlier. This was how the slaves got their food. The scraps from the various meals made for the vermin were set aside each day, and near the end of the day, a few slaves would gather the scraps of food into these bundles. They couldn't put anything very good into the bundles, since two vermin stood over them, watching what they choose, but over time, they had become very good at packing as much as they could into each bundle so that all of the slaves could be fed. In fact, these scraps would provide the slaves of Fort Vil, not only with dinner, but with breakfast the next day. Jem gave her own bundle of food to a squirrel who was gathering many of them together. Just as she was about to look over the food and pick out her share, as she did each evening after the day's work, she felt a paw on her arm. 

"No, dear," she heard Barka say. "That's not for us. We get to be food tasters all day. We don't need it."

Jem felt her stomach grumble in protest. Sure, she had tried a few things which she had made with Barka, but only a few bites had passed her lips all day. Was she expected to live on so little from now on? Jem had half a mind to break away from Barka's grip and grab at least a piece of bread, when she heard a loud clamor behind her. The slaves who worked in the fields had just arrived. Looking over her shoulder at them, Jem felt ashamed. They all looked so tired, many of them worn to the bone. She knew that feeling well, and for once, she didn't feel that way. With a sigh, she let Barka pull her away from the food.

She stood by, watching the slaves come in, grab some food, and shuffle away to eat. Most of them had no idea where the food came from and neither did they care. All that mattered was that it was there at the end of each day. Jem lost interest in the field slaves and began to look over her fellow kitchen slaves. Some of them had already walked away, but many remained, watching the food disappear. Jem realized that she recognized many of them now. They had always been here, watching as she took her food; she had just never really looked at them before now.

Thinking about her day, Jem realized that she couldn't remember ever seeing Gofod before. She began to look around, trying to find where he'd gone. A few hedgehogs caught her eye, but none of them were him. Even the ones turned away from her she was able to rule out immediately. There was simply no slave, of any species, as fat as Gofod in here.

Jem turned to Barka. "Where's Gofod?" she asked.

"Eh? You have to talk louder dear. It's noisy in here."

"WHERE'S GOFOD?" Jem repeated, this time nearly screaming. She blushed a bit as she saw many heads turn toward her, but she knew that this was the only way Barka would hear her.

"Oh, he has night duty every night," said Barka. "Makes sure everything we finished making late in the evening gets tended to. He has two helpers. They make runs for him, night and day. They take food where it's needed anywhere in the fort and beyond. In the morning, the three of them usually get things started up, the fires and such, before we get there."

Jem nodded, thinking of the molemaid who had been beaten because she was still in the kitchens when only three slaves were supposed to be there. The mole had looked about Jem's age. All of a sudden, Jem really wanted to meet her and talk to her. Bidding Barka a very loud farewell, she began to look for the molemaid.

Jem found her sitting against a wall, her head bowed forward as if she were asleep. "Umm, excuse me," Jem rested her paw on the mole's shoulder. "I don't mean to disturb you, just wanted to talk."

Slowly, the molemaid lifted her head. From the look on her face, she hadn't been asleep. "Hello," she said meekly.

With a big smile, Jem plopped down on the ground next to the young mole. "Hello! My name's Jem. What's yours?"

"Bur aye, moi name's Chohur. Oi saw yous ina kichen."

Jem nodded. "Yeah, it seems I'll be working there from now on." Jem looked Chohur over. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

Chohur shook her head. "Not reely. Apit, 'e 'elped meh out."

"Apite? Who's that?" Jem began to look around at the other slaves, expecting Chohur to point one of them out to her.

"Hur, not in yurr, 'e ain't. 'E's th' weasely. 'E 'elped meh oop when Ah fell down."

Jem stared at Chohur, wide-eyed in disbelief. "The weasel! I thought he was helping you get up, but I didn't believe it. Vermin never help out slaves. It just doesn't happen. He'd have no reason to."

"Sur 'e wud! The kichen gards're diffent. Bur aye, yurs! We gets um food an' they bes noicer to us'ns. Apit knose meh. Oi gave 'im a small cake." Chohur nodded at this as if it were plenty reason for a vermin to be nice to her.

Jem looked at her skeptically, not completely sure if this new world which she had been thrust into today could possibly exist. _Slaves can talk freely to each other; food gets sampled all day; everything's run by a fat, hedgehog slave; the guards don't yell or crack whips and even help the slaves out sometimes. It's nearly too much to take in._ Her thoughts were cut short as two furry arms wrapped around her from behind.

"Oh Jem! You're here! You're alive! I've been so worried about you!"

Jem escaped the squirrel's grip and turned around to face her. "Hi Carla."

Carla held Jem's face in her paws to look into her eyes. "Thank heavens you're alright! What happened? You weren't with the rest of us when we were coming back from the fields. I thought you must have been killed during the day."

Jem shifted uncomfortably. "Of course I'm alright, Carla. Why do you have to worry all the time? I was just moved to a new place to work is all. I'm in the kitchens now."

"Yurs marm! She'm wiv meh now."

Carla looked over Jem's shoulder at Chohur, then back down at Jem.

"I see you have a new friend, Jem. Would you care to introduce me?"

"Sure." Jem pulled away from Carla's hold and leaned against the wall beside Chohur. "Carla, this is my friend Chohur. Chohur, this is Carla. She's been watching over me since my parents died."

"Vury noice ta meet ya marm," said Chohur, extending a paw to shake Carla's paw.

The three of them sat there, talking to each other. Before long, Genti found them and joined the group. Chohur loved the huge otter right away, laughing at all of his jokes. Pretty soon though, everything quieted down in the slave barracks, and the four friends spread out on the ground, getting comfortable. Sleep is not a luxury which can be wasted by a slave. Knowing that they would just have to hold off talking further till the next day, they bid each other good night and closed their eyes to sleep.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Jem opened her eyes slowly, yawning a bit in the early morning. The sun was not yet up, but all of the slaves were. Most of them crowded around the food which was still laid out on the floor. A few napkins had been unfolded and spread over the food to keep it from becoming stale (or in some cases, staler) overnight, but now two otters were folding those napkins back up, sitting to the side. Jem's stomach rumbled as she sat up. Genti came to sit by her, his paws full of nuts.

"Here you go Jem. Breakfast! Did you get much from dinner?"

Jem shook her head and took a few nuts. As she was reaching for her mouth, a paw seemed to come out of nowhere to swat her own away, causing her to drop the nuts.

"No marm!" said Chohur, straightening up from where she'd slept beside her new friends. "Tha's no' fur us'ns, no noo!"

Jem's stomach growled in protest.

"Chohur! What was that about?" asked Genti, picking up the dropped nuts. "Jem needs to eat just as much as any other beast."

"But wes kichen slaves," said Chohur quickly. "We gets lot's o' food thur."

Genti hadn't heard her. He was already offering the nuts to Jem again. "Here little missy, you need to keep up your strength."

Jem took one look at the nuts, then looked at Chohur. "You need your strength more Genti," she said, pushing his paw away. She tried to not see the look of concern on his face, but he didn't offer her the nuts again. As she stood up and stretched, she saw that the last of the food was quickly being snatched up by slaves. She went over to where it had been and began to help the otters who were folding up napkins. Chohur joined her and before long, it was all ready to go.

Picking up a stack of napkins, Jem saw Barka approaching. In fact, all of the kitchen slaves were assembling. Jem could vaguely remember that the first slaves to leave every morning carried the food napkins away. She assumed that they had to leave first to make sure that the horde got its breakfast. Most of the other slaves didn't leave until sunrise or shortly after. At least the vermin were smart enough to know that slaves did their work better when they could see what they were doing. With these thoughts running through her head, Jem followed behind the other slaves. The same ferret guard that had counted the slaves before taking them back to the barracks where they slept was there to count them this morning. After he was sure that all of the kitchen slaves were present, he called in a loud voice for them to get moving.

Chohur fell in line beside Jem. "Bur aye, 'e's a bad 'um, ain't 'e?"

Jem nodded in reply.

"'E don't work in'a kichen. Jus' leads us'ns back an' forth."

Jem could understand that. There were always a few more guards to lead the slaves between the barracks and their place of work than there were to guard over them during the day. She had always assumed that that was because it would be easier for slaves to slip away through the forest which came up almost to the walls of Fort Vil than from any of the open fields or definitely from the insides of the fort itself. She and Genti had often spoken of how the early morning might be the best time to try an escape, when the hordebeasts were still groggy and it wasn't fully light yet. If they could just get behind a tree really quickly, they might be overlooked. She thought of this now, but made no move toward the trees. Escaping now would be foolish. She had no food or water, and she had no knowledge of the woods. Vermin scouts, who regularly walked through these woods, would find her before the day was done and she wouldn't live to see tomorrow. Anyway, working in the kitchen didn't seem that bad.

* * *

This day didn't seem much different than the day before. Jem worked beside Barka, running back and forth between her and the pantry to gather the ingredients they needed. She helped the elderly mouse to measure out ingredients and stir them together. She watched with amazement as Barka turned what looked like inedible slop into breads and cakes. Once, when she made biscuits, Barka split a biscuit in half and shared it with Jem to "make sure they had turned out right." It would have been obvious to anyone with eyes and a snout that there was nothing wrong with the biscuits, but Jem didn't object to being a taste tester. 

Wow! That's the only way Jem could think to describe the biscuit. She had heard slaves telling stories to dibbuns before and had often heard of how good food "just out of the oven" tasted, but she had never understood until now. She knew she was crying, but she couldn't help it.

"Hey! What's wrong with her?" asked a rat, coming away from the wall where he had been standing. He hadn't been speaking terribly loud, but Barka had understood well enough.

"Oh, it tastes horrible!" said Barka quickly. "Too much flour. You don't want to go eating one of those."

"They look fine to me," said the rat, looking at the batch of fresh biscuits.

Jem was wiping her eyes, watching Barka closely. Those two bites of biscuit had been the best tasting food she'd ever had in her life. Surely, there wasn't anything wrong with them.

"The best you can do with this is either throw it away or give it to the slaves," said Barka.

All of a sudden, Jem understood. Barka was making sure that some good food made it to the slaves for once. There had been times when Jem had seen, not scraps, but full loaves of bread or basket or fruit among the food offered to her and the other slaves. Now she thought she knew how it got there.

The rat eyed Barka suspiciously. Jem coughed up the last bit of biscuit, pulling a face at it. The rat nodded. "Lunch for the slaves," he said. Now that she'd already spit it out, she couldn't put the biscuit back in her mouth. So, Jem did the only thing she could do. She walked over to the trash and threw it away.

* * *

Jem and Barka were taking a break. The three ovens at their use were full of great-smelling food and they already had enough dough and cake batter ready to fill up the ovens again once the food inside them was done. They were using their break to help a vole test some cordial he had finished making that morning. 

"Needs a bit more sugar I think," said Barka expertly. Jem, knowing nothing about the preparing of food or drinks, didn't have any criticism to offer and so just nodded at what Barka had said.

"Thank you!" said the vole. "I thought so, but needed a second opinion." He scurried off to the pantry to pick up some more sugar.

Jem leaned against the counter and watched all the activity around the kitchen. Gofod's two helpers were packing baskets of food. Most of the baskets held small cakes and vegetables and cheeses and water bottles filled with various juices. These were going out to the hordebeasts who wouldn't be coming into the fort for lunch. For those who would be coming in, fresh loaves of bread, fish, hot soup, pie, and cider awaited them. Jem did her best to ignore all of the heavenly smells which seemed to be stuck in her nose and looked instead at the baskets being filled with the slaves' lunch. The water bottles in those baskets held water, and only water. Scraps left over from cooking throughout the kitchen were packed into basket after basket. Jem was delighted to see that, in addition to the biscuits supplied by her and Barka, there were also many strawberries (they had been considered too badly squashed to serve to the horde).

The two slaves began to load themselves down with baskets, readying to make some food runs. For a second, Jem feared that they were going to try and take all the baskets at once, but then she noticed they were making many trips back and forth between the outside and the kitchen. They must have a cart of some sort to hold the baskets. As they were carrying the last of the slave lunches out though, the worst happened. While climbing the stairs, the first slave lost his balance. The mouse began to roll down the stairs, crashing into the otter behind him. The two became a cartwheel of furry limbs, now broken baskets, and scraps of food. Being close to the door and not having any work to do at the moment, Jem ran to help once she heard the crash. Opening the door, she saw a disaster zone. Two squirrels who had been adding carrots to the soup were behind her in no time.

"Oh no," said one of them, pushing past Jem to help the mouse up. The other squirrel began to pull the otter out of the mess. "Try and clean this up," the first squirrel said to Jem. She immediately got down on the ground and began grabbing crumbling biscuits and slivers of potatoes to cram back into the holes of the baskets. A few more kitchen slaves joined her, righting baskets and gathering up as much food from off the floor as they could. If the vermin told them to throw it all away, they wouldn't be able to do anything else and that would mean that much less food given to the slaves. Once as much of it had been cleaned up as possible, Jem grabbed two baskets and ran up the stairs to place them in the waiting cart.

Stepping back into the kitchen, she saw that the two slaves who had fallen down the stairs were surrounded by a large group of slaves and two hordebeasts.

"Are they alright?" she asked a mouse standing near the door.

The mouse shook her head. "The otter has a broken paw from the fall. They've both been taken off night duty."

Gofod pushed his way into the group. Everybeast made room for him, getting away from his spikes. "Get back to your work!" he bellowed. "I'll take care of this. Chohur? Where are you?"

The molemaid ducked under the chin of a squirrel between her and the hedgehog, calling out, "Here, zur!"

"Good. You're on night and food run duty now. You're familiar with the work." He began to scan the room, looking slightly worried. "But who else?" his voice faded away.

"Oi knows zur!" piped up Chohur. "Moi friend Jem. She'm could 'elp meh."

Gofod looked down at the mole, now joined by Jem who had stepped forward at hearing her name. Even though Gofod had spoken with Jem only the day before, he looked at her as if he'd never seen her in his life. "Are you sure?" asked Gofod. Chohur nodded vigourously. "Are you up to it?" Gofod asked Jem. "You might not see the barracks again for weeks."

This news startled Jem, but one look at Chohur's expectant face decided her. She nodded.

"Good," said Gofod, levering up the mouse who had slipped on the stairs and was now crying. "Where were you working?" asked Gofod of Jem.

Jem squinted her eyes up at the fat hedgehog. Could he not remember? It had only been yesterday… "Um, I was with Barka, sir," she said.

"You hear that?" said Gofod to the mouse he held, drying his tears. "You'll be working with Barka now. No harm done."

"Coom on!" said Chohur. "Neerly lunch! Got ta 'urry!"

Jem nodded and followed the mole up the stairs to the waiting cart.


End file.
